


Misaeng

by Aikatsu



Series: Misaeng [1]
Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: Adult Life, F/M, more characters added as needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 17:31:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6866296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aikatsu/pseuds/Aikatsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s their final year at Princeton and Riley and Farkle’s life comes to a giant a roadblock. They realize, as most teenagers do, they are no longer teenagers but not yet ready to be adults. How will they survive after university? Where will they go? More so, how can they find a job when entry level positions require experience even from Ivy League graduates? "We're all 'Misaeng'. In this world, there's no such thing as being 'completely alive'. "</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misaeng

**Author's Note:**

> Before starting this story I want to explain the term “Misaeng”. It's a Korean Go term. You could literally translate it into “incomplete life” or “not yet alive”. Now Misaeng is also used for a popular K-Drama about a kid who trained all his life to become a professional Go player but failed to make it. Now he has to enter the workforce with little experience or knowledge as, especially in Korea youth aspiring to be Go players often drop out of school. In Korea they go to their Go organization and study there as insei until they make it (or fail, as is often the case). In some ways this story is inspired after that. Except it's about two kids who, coming from well-off backgrounds and a good school, struggle in current US job economy.
> 
> “Incomplete life” or “not yet alive” is a term we use on the occasions where you have played your moves and you might be able to survive in a hostile environment but it's uncertain yet. There is just as high probability the moves you made were wasted and you cannot survive. It means you're an in-between state and that's why I felt it was also a good name for this series—You're adults, but not quite in the workforce. You've achieved so much, but does it matter?
> 
> Let's find out.
> 
> I should also note this is sort of a prologue-y chapter but not really. It's definitely setting some ideas up! Also the song that this chapter is using/inspired by is “Blessings”--the version I was thinking of HERE. This is shorter than my other starts, but hopefully no less enjoyable!
> 
> "We're all 'Misaeng'. In this world, there's no such thing as being 'completely alive'.

The young man entered their small, two person flat to an agonized cry. Dropping his bag in the entry way, one foot kicked the door closed and the other did a sort of step dance to take off his shoe. Another agonized cry from the living room makes him stop as he hurries into the living room, one foot still dangling a shoe. The sight before him is a living room with sticky notes covering everything, the television playing some news program, and several books tossed every which way. There was junkfood, too, of course. The silliest imagery of all was the sight of a girl laying facedown on the couch, half on it and half on the floor. Currently her face was stuffed against their microfiber carpet as she let out another cry.

Uncertain if he should be worried or amused the male rubbed the back of his head. “Uh, Riley...” He started awkwardly—earning a squeak from the girl, “are you okay there?” By the time he's getting the words out she's already trying to readjust herself to sit on the couch, but she's always been klutzy and is moving way too fast. So of course her foot slips out from under her and the next thing she knows is her head is meeting the coffee table with a loud THUMP.

“Oh my goooood,” the girl mumbles in defeat, refusing to move. The young man's mouth twitches as he shakes his head, going around the table before sitting on his knees next to her. A hand moves to wrap around her side to help her sit up even as she cries out a soft moan of a no. “Come on,” he tries lightly, the sound of humor in his voice, “I need to make sure you didn't just give yourself a concussion.” Another sound of distress before she obliges with a huff. “ _Please_ ,” she responds in mock offense, “I'm the queen of falling over, I don't get concussions.”

The corners of his lips twitch in amusement as he goes about playing doctor. Only after checking her pupils does he sit back and quirk a brow. “Queen or not, mi'lady, we have to be sure your luck hasn't given up on you. Looks fine, but just in case you shouldn't go to bed yet,” he advises, frowning slightly, “now are you going to tell me what you were doing?” Riley huffs once more folding her arms against her chest. He quirks his brow further up in response at the childish image she was giving off. He should be used to it. They've known each other since they were seven and had been living together for three years, since both of them decided they couldn't do dorms again after freshman year.

Riley has yet to answer a moment later so the young man turns to shake his head. Focusing instead on shuffling the papers into a more organized mess (with the deliberate advantage of maybe it'll give him a hint). The books were definitely her ones for pre-law, he notes, as he picks up one on New York law and closes it. Then moves to pick off some sticky notes off of the couch that all had different statues and by-laws written on them. He was just about to take one off the arm rest when he's interrupted by an exclamation of, “Don't! Stop!”

Immediately he pulls both of his hands up to his head and turns frantic eyes to the girl. Riley, meanwhile, is leaning forward to slap the sticky note back into place. “Final exams,” she finally explains with a sigh, leaning back against the couch with another grown, “I'm _never_ going to remember all of this.” He winces sympathetically, moving to place a hand on her knee to get her to look at him. “You will,” he affirms, “I believe in you.”

Riley smiles weakly shifting a little closer to him to lean her head against his shoulder instead. “Thanks, Farkle,” comes her content response, “let's hope your belief is enough for me to pass Professor Krozier's class.” Farkle shakes his head once more, squeezing her knee in response. “You don't need my belief,” he continues once more, “nothing will stop you when you put your mind to it. How do you think we got this apartment?”

She can't help but laugh at that reminiscing on the moment. They'd been in a heated back-and-forth with the owner and another potential occupant and Riley would not give up. Farkle had said they could just go to their second choice, but Riley refused—she didn't like that neighborhood. So while the boy backed up, Riley hounded the owner relentlessly until they got too tired of having this nineteen-year-old calling them whenever she had the chance. It did help that Farkle's father had offered twice the deposit which left a hefty sum in their pocket, but both of the kids counted the victory to Riley as opposed to the Minkus moneyhole.

“You're right,” Riley responds with a proud nod shifting to grab one of the books he'd closed. It's her turn to stop this time, brushing back some hair, as she stares at him curiously, “Where have you been...” She pauses briefly to look at the calendar mouthing days to herself before staring at him horrified, “the past week?! Farkle!”

Farkle winces in response, not quite meeting his friends' eyes. “Well--” Farkle stutters, “I had to work on my project. You know it's due next week—It had to get done--” Riley frowns further at that, thumbing through her book, “Did you finish?” There's another long pause between the two as the boy continues to refuse to look at her. Another moment longer before a tiny squeak drones out, “Nooooooo.” Riley snaps the book shut, brown eyes large with worry, moving to grab his face with her hands so he'd look at her properly.

The young man's face turns crimson and he turns his eyes upwards to look at the ceiling. Riley smooshes the palms of her hands against his cheek in response. “Farkle Minkus, you look at me right now!” She demands all the more her mother's child. Squeaking out a response, Farkle's own fingers move to try and ply hers away to no avail. “Okay, okay, please don't smoosh me,” he warbles out in a squeak. Riley loosens her grip on his face but refuses to pull them away, brown eyes still alert to any escape attempts her friend might make.

Farkle huffs, fingers still gripping her hands. He looks away and the moment he does he feels the pressure return to his cheeks. Instead of responding verbally, Farkle squeezes her hands a silent plead to give him a moment to gather his thoughts. This time Riley also silently agrees to his request and the boy lets out a shaky breath. “You know I've been trying to work on it since he told us what our final project would be,” Farkle admits and Riley nods, “I've been trying to work on it for months.” Once more, Riley nods. Farkle makes a face. “I don't know what's wrong. We're supposed to make something that will be useful in space and I think I have it, but then when it comes to making it—I just blank,” he pauses, lips pulling up in one direction in discontent, “I thought I had it and if I was going to make any progress I should stay in the lab... But that didn't work, so I thought seeing you might help.”

“Seeing me?” Riley questions perplexed.

As the girl's hands finally pull away from his face, Farkle gives a short nod. Rubbing the back of his neck he gives another half shrug of his shoulder parsing together what I want to say. “It's been that way since I was little,” he admits, scrunching his eyebrows together, “sometimes when I couldn't think of something going to your house would help. It's not logical how, but your energy helped. Like. I could stop thinking so hard and it would just come to me? It's weird and I sound really dumb and creepy right now, sorry--”

Once more he's cut off by her hands squishing his face. When he meets her eyes, Farkle notices the way mirth fills her eyes and he just knows Riley is trying really hard not to laugh at him. Turning crimson, Farkle jerks his head away from her hands before putting his face in his own hands in embarrassment. Riley finally laughs which certainly doesn't help him from trying to become one with the floor.

Riley has other plans, though, as she moves to grab his hands. “ _Blessings for your birthday, blessings for your everyday_ ,” she sings at the top of her lungs, humming the music to herself. Farkle still refuses to look up so she plows on, trying to pull him and herself to their feet. “ _Face forward until the very last second~ With tags that multiply even when-- TORN OFF!_ ”

The last words are stamped with a shout as she stamps her foot and manages to get the boy up... Only to loose her footing and fall backwards onto her butt. Farkle remains standing looking a mixture of embarrassed and amused. “Riley, what are you doing?” She huffs, taking his hand as she makes a face, “Tonight is operation: Inspire Farkle!”

Farkle blinks at that and opens his mouth to speak, but Riley Matthews is relentless.

“ _Even if you've got nothing,_ ” she emphasizes skipping ahead in the song, “ _Even then! I want you to live~_ ” Riley matches the tune with a jig that makes Farkle helpless to a fitful laughter. Still, she continues to sing triumphantly. She only hesitates for a moment when she feels Farkle's hand squeeze against hers. Giving him a look, Farkle shakes his head before nodding just slightly.

“ _Blessings for your birthday_ ,” he continues, returning the song they both knew all too well.

Riley's smile widens and they take turns singing the song as they dance around a room covered in worry. Every now and then Farkle would sing the lyrics in a different lyric and they remember their connections around the world. They weren't alone even if when the night was over they'd return to their separate worlds. Riley would be back to cramming every bit of last minute definitions in her mind. Farkle will be given sleepless nights of trying to create the perfect robot. But in that moment none of it mattered, it was just their happiness, a song, and a life that was full of potential ahead of them.

 


End file.
